


Conflict of Interest

by Unusual_Raccoon



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Complicated Relationships, F/M, Future Fic, Implied Sexual Content, Lauriver is Endgame, Married Lauriver, Non-Graphic Smut, Parent Laurel Lance, Parent Oliver Queen, Post-Canon, Secret Marriage, Secret Relationship, i wrote this instead of doing homework, she's trying, they both are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27634723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unusual_Raccoon/pseuds/Unusual_Raccoon
Summary: Oliver and Laurel do their best to maintain their complicated personal relationship in private, while also portraying a decades long feud of good and evil to the public.
Relationships: Earth-2 Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	Conflict of Interest

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Fact, this whole idea came about through a conversation with my mom about the new playstation. So, there's that...
> 
> It's been in my head for like two-ish days now, so I figured I had to get it out and share it with you all.
> 
> Also apologies for the mistakes this was written in a few hours.

This was a dangerous dance, Laurel thought to herself, this game of theirs. Maybe they had both gotten complacent, too familiar, too reliant on the warmth of each other’s skin. It was too essential to give up now. Like relinquishing the need for oxygen, it was nonnegotiable. Climbing the fire escape, her hands braced against the cold metal, ignoring the distant whoop of sirens and flash of lights. They were looking for her, they always were.

Easing open the bedroom window, she found herself flinching in surprise at the realization that it was unlocked. There were worse things out at night beside her. He should really lock his windows. She slipped inside expertly, her backpack nearly snagging on the latch of the window as she went. Her feet met the carpeted ground, smiling fondly at the faint glow of a nightlight illuminating the corner of the room, as she slid the window shut behind her. Laurel made a point of locking the window she had just climbed through.

Letting out a quiet exhale as she drank in her surroundings, the sound was harsh to her own ears, chafing against the glaring silence. There was a soft shuffle in the dark, a quiet creak of sleepy limbs that made her freeze at having been caught.

“Mom?” Called a sleep-laden voice.

Turning at the sound of the voice, Laurel felt her defenses softening. A hesitant smile spreading over her lips as she inched into the dim glow provided by the nightlight. Pushing off the hood of her sweatshirt to reveal her face, she crouched down by the side of the twin bed. Bleary blue eyes stared back at her, filled with a heartening warmth.

“Hey, Little Bird.” Laurel hummed, her hand carefully reaching up to pet the mop of blonde curls atop the boy's head. He wriggled in his bed, curls bobbing as he tried to sit up.

“What are you doing here?” He asked amidst a yawn, his voice still adorably thick with sleep. Big blue eyes hardly open as he leaned into the comforting touch of her hand.

“I wanted to see you.” Laurel answered equally as quiet. She smiled at the way her son’s face spread into a lazy smile.

“Oh.” He hummed gently, his smile persisting. Laurel felt her starved heart give a desperate leap in her chest at the appreciation written clearly on his face.

“Dad didn’t tell me you were coming.” The boy added sleepily, reaching up with a spindly arm to rub at his eyes.

Laurel let out a little sigh, shimmying her backpack off of one shoulder to swing down between her bent legs.

“Well, I was planning on surprising him too.” She admitted, mimicking the gentle smile on her son’s face. Pulling the tabs of her bag’s zipper, Laurel reached into the open maw of the bag.

“Speaking of surprises,” She said, her hands wrapping around the heavy cardboard box that had been weighing down her usually light bag of essentials, “I got you something.”

Revealing the box, she couldn’t help smile at the way her son’s eyes practically bugged out of his head in surprise.

“Is that the new PlayStation?” He asked incredulously, sitting up more fully as he gaped at the box.

“Yeah, it is. I saw it and thought you might like it.” Laurel said with a little shrug, smiling at his unrestrained delight.

“This is so cool!” He said, immediately shrinking back at the way he accidentally raised his voice, it was pretty late. Returning to a whisper, albeit an excited whisper, he asked, “How did you even get this? JJ was telling me they haven’t even been released yet, and his mom pre-ordered his.” Her boy explained, wincing as Laurel gingerly placed the box in his hands, allowing him to feel the weight of it.

“Well, JJ’s mom can’t do all the things yours can, huh?” She teased, her chest grew warm at his wide grin. Ignoring the question, Laurel hoped he wouldn’t pry any farther. Winded at the way his deceptively long arms wrapped around her, practically squishing the hard cardboard between them. Her Little Bird wasn’t a little as she remembered.

“You’re the best.” He exclaimed, nearly bringing tears to Laurel’s eyes with such few words. Pressing a kiss to his wild blonde curls, Laurel gave a sniffly smile. Taking the box back, Laurel set the console down beside his desk. They could figure out setting the thing up tomorrow, and by ‘they’, she meant Ollie.

Her Little Bird was buzzing with excitement now, sitting up in his bed. Returning to his side, Laurel ushered him back down, his head settling comfortably on his pillow without protest as she pulled his blankets up to his chin, the way she had when he was younger. Her darling Little Bird.

“Time for bed.” Laurel instructed, realizing it was likely a few hours after bedtime.

“Mom?” He murmured quietly, shifting a little beneath his blankets to get comfortable.

“Yeah, baby?” Laurel whispered back, her fingers gently carding through his hair, the lulling motion calming him.

“Will you be here in the morning?” It was a simple question, spoken reverently into the dark like a wish. Laurel felt her heart nearly split in two where it resided behind her ribcage. There had been times in her past where an answer to that question wouldn’t have been so simple, but tonight she was feeling particularly selfish.

“Of course, sweetheart.” She promised, smiling fondly at his pleased expression. Leaning forward she pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. Rising up from her spot crouched down by his bed, her lower back gave a twinge of protest. Shouldering her bag once more, Laurel turned to exit her son’s bedroom.

“Goodnight, Mom.” He hummed contentedly, sleep easily returning to him.

Her hand settled over the doorknob, where she paused at the sound of his voice.

“Goodnight, Connor.” Laurel called back, her neck craned to glance back over her shoulder at her son.

Easing open his bedroom door, Laurel slipped out into the hallway of Oliver’s apartment. Her steps silent as she snuck through the apartment, there wasn’t much need for it, other than to comply with her own habit.

It was long until she found him, sitting obliviously on the couch, disinterestedly watching something on TV.

_ “-With the return of Star City’s very own villainess, Black Siren, many are left wondering, how long will it be until the Green Arrow stops her again?” _

Laurel carefully placed her backpack down, before slinking over to him. Her arms coming up around the width of his shoulders from behind the couch. She could feel him go tense before sinking into her hold. They didn’t speak as Laurel clamored awkwardly onto the couch, clamoring for a feel at him. His arms pulled her in without hesitation and Laurel melted into the familiar feeling.

His hands slipped deftly beneath the hem of her sweatshirt, the firm press of his searing palms thawing the cold that lingered in her in his absence. They crowded together, shivering at the hot drag of hands against her skin. Her forehead pressing against his and she crawled into his lap. They remained locked in that embrace, warm breaths exhaled together, a tension leaching from them when tangled in each other’s arms.

“Dinah…” Oliver exhaled in a ragged breath, the sound igniting a ripple of goosebumps over his skin. Licking her lips, Laurel shook her head, the imploring circular rubbing of his hand between her shoulder blades sapping whatever fight existed in her.

“Ollie, I don’t want to argue.” Laurel murmured, instinctually rocking into the welcoming presence of his lips. She could feel him crumble beneath the press of her lips, by the potent wheeze of his breathing, the desperate clutch of his hands, Laurel knew he didn’t want to fight either. They’d done enough of that for the cameras. She had gone too long without him, and now she was aching, like a plant without sunlight. She just wanted to burn beneath his warmth.

Wincing at the drag of his hand over her side, Laurel was grateful for the tender curl of his fingers beneath her chin.

“What is it?” He asked knowingly. Giving a roll of her eyes, Laurel knew well enough Oliver was unrepentantly stubborn when it came to her being injured, though she would hardly call a few bruised ribs an injury. Gesturing to her side, she shivered as he carefully lifted her sweatshirt and shirt beneath to reveal the culprit: an ugly football-sized bruise adorning her side.

“It looks worse than it is.” She assured, reaching to cup his cheek once more, though frowning when he evaded her attempts.

“Who did it?” Oliver asked firmly.

Laurel gave a shrug, “One of those little shits in Gotham, he’s got so many, it’s hard to keep track.” Despite her attempt at levity, she could see the way his face contorted in discomfort.

“Which one?” Oliver demanded, and a part of her was touched by the sentiment.

“Does it matter?” Laurel shot back, “It’s not like you can do anything about it, Ollie - You’re the hero, I’m the bad guy, remember?”

A silence bloomed, accompanied by the chatter of news commentary. Despite sitting in his lap, she could feel a chasm of distance between them. Laurel sighed, noting the defeated droop of his shoulders, stroking his cheek with the back of her hand. A renewed warmth brewed in her at the subtle way he leaned into her touch. It was slow, but he was coming back to her.

“You’re a mother too,” He amended, his lips pressing a kiss to her palm as he stared up at her, “You’re someone’s wife, remember?” Laurel exhaled a shaky breath, melting at the way he murmured the word.  _ Wife _ . It was silly, but it sounded unbearably decadent rolling off of his tongue. His lips traversing what skin he could reach, her neck, her cheeks, her lips.

“Whose fault is that?” She teased gently, grinning at his unbearably adoring smile.

It was hard to forget how it had all happened, how  _ they _ had happened. It had been give or take 10 years ago, goodness, back when that clown Prometheus had been running around town. They had been like a ticking-time-bomb around each other. Avoiding this bizarre feeling that arose when they were near. Their clandestine meeting had only been possible thanks to their seclusion, his team had run off in a different direction hunting down Artemis, while he had split to tail her. 

She still thought fondly of the little warehouse Oliver had cornered her in, his unwavering aim shaky when she was in his crosshairs. It hadn’t taken much for them to fulfill that prophecy written in their bones. There had been something so freeing about not having to behave. They had no audience, they were just alone, alone to do as they wished. The clatter of his bow was hard and metallic against the ground, where she urged it from his hand with the faintest push. Oliver hadn’t resisted her, because he had wanted her just as badly. His mutual want evident in the harsh saw of his hampered breathing, the aching pull of their bodies spiralling around each other. Two meteors waiting to collide. She remembered the sound he hissed against her lips when she kissed him, horrified and hungry, frantic and frenzied. The possessive clasp of his hands against her hips as he dared to pull her closer. The waxy smear of her lipstick against his mouth. It hadn’t been long after that until they were clamoring for more, ripping away anything standing in that void between them.

Conceiving their son in an abandoned warehouse, the stale taste of rust and sweat in the air as they rutted together like wild animals.

Laurel recalled a night not unlike this one, where their roles had been reversed. Oliver had been creeping through the dark of her apartment in search of answers, with the city dangling in limbo at the mysterious disappearance of Black Siren. The swell of her belly had been too obvious to hide at that point, not that she wanted to do. Not from him.

One secret lovechild later and they had devised a plan, a plan to protect their precious little bird. She’d be the villain in this story of theirs, the unrelenting cancer on their city so no one else could be. Empty threats and staged scuffles had kept them afloat. It worked a treat, no one had suspected a thing, though that never made the time away easy. Selfish desires led to reckless nights like these that could expose them both, stolen moments with those she loved most.

Shivering at the stroke of his hand against her sternum, Laurel felt herself sink back into the present. Each touch pulling her from her past and returning her to reality.

“What are you thinking about?” Oliver asked quietly, his words whispered warmly against her throat.

Laurel gave a hum as he gently urged her sweatshirt off, the material of her undershirt clinging to the inside of her sweatshirt, efficiently relieving her of both layers. 

“Thinking about that little warehouse in the Glades…” She admitted, cheeks hot at the devilish grin that spread over his lips.

The contact of skin on skin was electric now, with little to muffle the touch. His fingers were careful as he danced around the bruise marring her side. His lips experly finding a ticklish spot against the underside of her jaw. It was familiar and dizzying and warm, igniting a freeing giggle.

Trying to smother the sound against the back of her hand, mindful of their sleeping little bird. Laurel sucked in a sharp breath, arching her back into the cage of his hands as lips moved lower, his teeth caught over the small stretch of fabric between the cups of her bra. Trembling at the way his fingers dug into her, feeling the warmth of him, solid and molten beneath her.

“Ollie…” Laurel gasped, the rumble of his resulting hum vibrating against her taut belly. The maddening scrape of his scruff against her skin like matchsticks to dry wood, igniting a ravenous fire deep her.

For all that she had missed him, Laurel knew he had missed her too. Sliding off of his lap, standing on shaky legs Laurel took his hand in hers.

“I need a shower… and I could use some company.” She said with a smirk, savoring the pleased curl of Oliver’s smile.

They remained similarly tangled beneath the hot spray of water, the warm press of his lips against her nape making her shiver amidst the clouds of steam. Oliver was familiar, fitting against her back, slotting together with ease, like they were made for one another - and Laurel supposed, in a way, they were.

His wet fingers curled over the jut of her hips, thumbs dipping into the subtle divots in her lower back. His touch slow and winding as it moved lower, her sodden curtain of her hair hanging over Oliver’s shoulder where she leaned back into him. She felt warm beyond the spray of water, molded beneath his knowing hands, guiding her. His weight nudged at her, insistent and loving.

“I missed you.” He groaned into ear, fitting together in a different way, bodies abruptly linked as Laurel shuddered a grateful sound.

Eyes wet with tears and water alike, as she hiccuped an overwhelmed sound, wet hands digging into him, anchoring him to her. God, she had missed him.

They stood, interlocked, twisted in a grimace of desperation and unrestrained want beneath the hot spray of water. Stealing away this sliver of normalcy, hoarding it for themselves, to be looked upon with fond remembrance in their time apart.

Stumbling from their shower, damp and shaky, Laurel hummed happily as Oliver helped towel her off. Drying the remnants of their shower with steady hands. He was always steady, always safe, always hers - he was home.

A content smile blooming on her face as she neared her side of the bed. Her gaze instantly drawn to the simple gold wedding band sitting on her nightstand. Carefully taking the plain ring between her fingers, Laurel felt something squeeze in her chest at the cool surface of the metal. Slipping the wedding band onto her ring finger, the last of the stubborn tension lingering in her vanishing.

Being Black Siren could wait, the whole damn city would wait, at least for a little while...right now her family needed her.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I wrote this, but I did...
> 
> If you did enjoy this, please don't hesitate to leave a comment, I do love to hear what my readers have to say.


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